


Sweetie ~<3<3<3

by makingbroculturegay



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: M/M, bc thats a good tag, mlm author, show-typical language, um, wacky hyjinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-05
Updated: 2017-07-05
Packaged: 2018-11-23 15:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11405184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingbroculturegay/pseuds/makingbroculturegay
Summary: // “Hey babe, pass me those-” Wait.// He doesn’t realise until it’s already out of his mouth.





	Sweetie ~<3<3<3

Gilfoyle is staring at him, hand halfway between his mouth and the dorito bag. He still hasn’t moved. 

Not that Dinesh has moved either. His mouth snapped shut halfway through his sentence, but the damage was done. If he doesn’t move, Gilfoyle can’t see him. That’s how it works.

Richard tick taks across the table from them, wearing his headphones, oblivious to the goings on.

“Oh no, no, no, I’m so, so, so sorry,” Dinesh says, without really meaning to.

Gilfoyle sighs, in a resigned ‘this was bound to happen’ sort of way. He leans back in his chair, still looking at Dinesh. “This is my fault, I’ve been letting you get too chummy,” he says, then turns to face his desk.

“Excuse me, what?” Dinesh stands up from his chair. It’s not as dramatic as he’d have liked, because he has to roll it out from under the desk first. “What the fuck, man. Is that really all?”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Gilfoyle doesn’t turn around, keeps staring at his screen.

Dinesh does’t know the answer, so he leaves it be. “Whatever,” he says, then goes back to his chair.

The thing is, they totally were getting too chummy. Once their simmering animosity gave way to bickering (just as a function of time, their living situation, and the simple joy of having someone as smart as yourself to cooperate with), a routine sort of friendship had developed. Now that Dinesh thought about it, they did spend… a lot of time together. They worked together. They ate together. They slept down the hallway from each other every night.

“Fuck!” Dinesh said, quietly, but with great feeling.

Richard looked up.

Dinesh stood, unpluggged his laptop, and moved to another room.

* * *

It happened again three days later.

Dinesh powered down his laptop, shut the lid, and picket up his phone. “I’m going to bed,” he told Gilfoyle, then started walking out of the room. “Can you turn off all the lights when you turn in?” He was too tired for an actual barb.

“No problem,” Gilfoyle replied, without taking his eyes off his screen.

“Thanks, babe.”

This time, Dinesh didn’t realise what he’d said until he was in the hallway. Out of sight from the computer room, he flapped his arms wildly and screamed as silently as he could muster.

* * *

The next day, he walked on eggshells, careful not to slip up. That to transgressions passed without comment was a miracle. Surely, a third offense would be his end.

Around 9pm, Gilfoyle stood up and stretched, eyes closed and arms twisting. “I had a pretty late night yesterday, so I’m crashing a bit early,” he announced to anyone who was listening.

“I always knew you came early,” Dinesh muttered half-heartedly. He knew it was weak, but he was stressed.

Gilfoyle huffed. “I do not, as you know.” Making his way out of the room with his slow, I-Don’t-Give-a-Fuck walk, he added: “Sorry honey, I’m not up for anything tonight. Don’t worry about coming to bed before I fall asleep.” He was gone before Dinesh could reply.

Jared was staring.

“He’s joking, obviously,” Dinesh informed him, trying to ignore the uncomfortable heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks.

* * *

From that point onward, it was added to their repertoire. Gilfoyle always made his uncomfortably sexual:

“I dunno, man, I think I’m getting a cold. My throat’s pretty sore-”

“Well, after last night, that’s to be expected. Honestly, gag reflex aside, I have no idea how you can hold your breath for so long. Must be years of practice. I’m almost proud.”

And Dinesh tried to do that, he really did, but he always ended up saying stuff like:

“So when we get married, right, can I invite my younger cousins, or will all the nudity and blood sacrifice be inappropriate?”

Or, once: 

“Alright, motherfucker, say what you will, but just these five lines of code are almost as pretty as your eyes,” which, well, Gilfoyle’s glasses magnifying his eyes to the point he looked like a fish didn’t restrict them from also being pretty. Okay, whatever, maybe it wasn’t that carefully crafted an insult.

Dinesh was getting more and more unimaginative, too. He’d reached the point where, whenever he didn’t have a good comeback for an insult, He’d respond with something sickeningly sweet. Surprisingly, it shut Gilfoyle up every time.

“Dinesh, I know you feel a sort of kinship with farm animals ever since you fucked that goat, but could you please come over here and pick up your shit.”

_’I’ve tagged along to enough of your church meetings to know you’re projecting your goat issues onto me,’_ could’ve been a reasonable reply. Even _’Your room is still messier than mine, asshole,’_ or something as simple as _’No, you.’_ Instead, Dinesh said:

“Love you too,” offhandedly, still focusing on the computer in front of him.

After a few minutes, Dinesh looked up and noticed that the empty chip bags and cans had been cleaned up off the table in the other room. Huh.

**Author's Note:**

> ch 2 going up in a few days  
> sorry this is just some lazy shit from me fucking around and stanning for this show so fukin hard at the mo  
> the gay cs guy in me loves it tbh


End file.
